


Your Touch Got Me Looking So Crazy

by halfsweet



Series: Unfinished D/s AU [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Plug, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, M/M, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Patrick, Subspace, dom brendon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 13:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsweet/pseuds/halfsweet
Summary: "Did you touch yourself?"Patrick gulps. He knows he's caught.





	Your Touch Got Me Looking So Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is actually a part of a long brentrick fic that I started last year, and it's nowhere near halfway finished and honestly, I don't think it'll ever be finished bc I've stopped writing it since early this year :/
> 
> so I figured why not post a scene here instead of letting the story rot in my drafts amirite
> 
> (but long story short it's about Patrick getting into BDSM lifestyle and he likes being a sub, so he goes to a club to get what he wants. And then he sees Brendon at the club one day, and they figure out an arrangement that works out for them since they can't risk getting exposed, esp with the popularity that FOB and Panic are gaining-- and the idea is not by me, just thought I should throw it out there. All credits go to imntch, who gave me the permission to use it but they'd left bandom before I get to finish this :/)

"Have you been good?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Did you go to the bathroom to get yourself off?"

"N- no, Sir."

"Did you touch yourself?"

Patrick gulps. He knows he's caught. He has two routes from here. Lie and get punished. Or tell the truth and get punished. It's the same outcome anyway; the only difference being only whether Brendon will be angry or not. "J- just a little."

A sharp cry rips out from his throat when he feels the blunt edge of the plug slams hard against his prostate, his fingers twisting in the sheets.

"What did I say about that?"

He sounds mad. Fuck, Brendon _is_ mad. He gulps, nervous and terrified. He's waited all day for a release, and if Brendon won't allow him…

His sob is muffled by the sheet under him, and he takes in a shaky breath before answering. "T- that I'm not- not allowed to."

"And what did you do?"

Patrick bites his lip, stifling a whimper, and his fingers clutch onto the sheets beneath him as a drop of tear forms on the corner of his eye. It's embarrassing to say it out loud, he never quite gets used to it, but right at that moment, he'd say anything if it gets him to come. He swallows, feeling heat creeping up his neck in humiliation. "I- I touched myself…"

Brendon hums from behind him. "Still think you've been good?"

Patrick sobs again. Both of his hands are tied to the headboard, and Brendon is tracing and teasing around the rim and pushing the plug in further, and he just can't hold it anymore. It would be easier if he had a cock ring around him, but _fuck_.

He can't last a second longer.

"P- please." Patrick cries out in desperation, pushing his hips backwards to get the plug in deeper. "Sir, please. I- I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I- please- I need to-"

"Do you think you deserve to come after disobeying me?"

Patrick squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the back of his eyelids burn in frustration. He knew it was a bad idea to touch himself. He knew Brendon would find out somehow. "N- no, Sir."

Brendon moves away from him, and Patrick lets out a whine before it turns to a gasp. Brendon has his fingers in his hair in a tight grip as he yanks on them, exposing his pale neck. "Good. Then don't."

Patrick tugs against the tie, hoping that it will come loose so he will be able to get himself off, even if it means a severe punishment afterwards. He's just so desperate now. He tries to rut his hips into the mattress, but as soon as he does that, Brendon pulls on his hair again. "Do that again, and I'll put a ring around you. I'll make sure you don't get to come until tomorrow."

That gets him to stop moving.

"P- please…" Patrick begs once again as tears start to roll down his face and drop to the pillow underneath. "I- I'll do anything. I'll be good. Just- please let me come. Sir- please-"

"You talk too much." His heart races when the Dom growls in his ear. And fuck, he can just come with that voice alone. "Why don't you put that mouth to good use, and maybe I'll let you come."

"Yes. Anything. Please." Patrick almost lets out a cry of relief when Brendon finally unties his hand. He quickly gets off the bed and drops down to his knees in front of him, hands reaching for the button on his pants in eagerness, not waiting a second longer.

Brendon is already half hard when he wraps his mouth around him, and it doesn't take him a long time to get him fully hard. Patrick's not going slow, no. Not this time. He's going straight for it, pulling out all his tricks, pushing just the right buttons, licking up the right places, sucking just the right amount of pressure. He's going to make Brendon come fast so he can finally have that sweet taste of release that he's been craving and yearning for since they were in the dressing room.

He pulls off for a few seconds for air before diving back down, deepthroating him. He can feel Brendon's fingers gripping on his hair, and he lets out a moan, knowing how much the Dom loves the vibration around him. Judging from the low groan that Brendon gives, he's not too far from coming down his throat.

Or maybe his face.

Just the thought of it almost sends Patrick over the edge, but he quietly, stealthily, wraps his hand around the base of his cock to prevent himself from coming right then and there.

He doesn't know why he suddenly finds it hot—Brendon's come on his face, that is. Maybe it's the submissive streak in him. Or maybe it's the possessive side in him.

In a way, it's like having a stamp of some sort. A brand. Brendon's brand on him that no one else can have. Not even Dallon.

 _Especially_ not Dallon.

He glances up at Brendon, eyes wide with spit running down his chin, when Brendon pulls him up onto the bed and tears open the condom foil. He doesn't even have a chance to get a word out, because Brendon is taking the plug out and thrusting into him in one swift movement.

Patrick's mouth drops open as moans slip out, his eyes closed in pleasure. All his senses, his thoughts, everything, just zeroes in on Brendon. His body heat. His intoxicating scent. His hot breath. His deep grunts. His calloused fingertips. He can feel Brendon throbbing inside him, and fuck. He's close. He's so damn close.

Brendon is pressing a kiss on the side of his neck, and he trails upwards until he reaches the ear. "Come."

And Patrick does. He doesn't know if it's because of the command or the fact that he's already teetering on the edge that pushes him to his long-awaited release, but one thing's for sure.

He's back to the place that he's been waiting for.

-

When he finally wakes up some time later, he sees Brendon's sleeping face next to him, his eyebrows knitted together and mouth slightly opened with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

It's tempting to just tilt his head upwards and give in to the temptation to kiss that soft, pink lips. He wants to kiss Brendon, he really does, but he knows that if he did, it would ruin whatever it is that they are having.

And he doesn't want that. It's confusing, to say the least. Everything is. They're friends, sure, but something within him tells him otherwise.

They're not in a relationship, and yet he feels uneasy, like something is flaming and burning and combusting in his chest whenever he sees the stage antics between Brendon and Dallon.

They're not exclusive, and yet they only play scenes with each other.

So, what _exactly_ are they?

He holds in his breath when Brendon stirs in his sleep before his eyelids flutter open, revealing the warm browns that never fail to bring him butterflies each time they're directed at him.

"Hey, how you feeling?" Brendon's voice comes out raspy and heavy from sleep, and Patrick imagines himself waking up to it every morning.

His heart skips.

He's not supposed to be imagining that. _Friends_ don't imagine their friends like that.

"Fine." He replies quietly, eyes slipping shut to block out the image of a worried Brendon in front of him.

They're strictly friends and nothing more. This arrangement doesn't make any difference.

"I'm fine."


End file.
